 |
| Nothing like a good skyline view... |
High above the city, dinner began.
While I enjoyed beautiful views of the night sky, The Frenchman continued to drone...
-Why he'd responded to my profile
-Driving in the French countryside
-The extent of his watch collection
Occasionally, I exited the reverie of my wild porcini soup and winter risotto (both delightful, by the way) to attempt to get a word in edgewise. I succeeded at rare moments. Otherwise, I simply smiled, nodded and focused on a small line on his forehead above his right brow.
I couldn't help noticing how focused he was on bargain shopping. When speaking of his watches, his eyes lit up most when mentioning how he'd gotten this one or that at just above cost.
He'd chosen to abstain from ordering a drink after looking at the wine list...which made me slightly uncomfortable. I, of course, still ordered a glass of the vintage I preferred.
Of clothes, he mentioned the importance of always shopping for the best deal, and how he'd scour Ebay for gifts.
Now, I might just be chief among SBs when it comes to concern for frugality & the prudent use of finances. When, however, a man seeking a supposed arrangement mentions how much he ISN'T willing to spend on this or that more than 10 times in the course of 3 hours, alarm bells start ringing.
At the close of dinner, the check arrived. After an excruciating 10 minutes or so of avoidance, Mr. Frenchman (so named for the emphasis he placed on his French heritage, to the detriment of his Canadian one) looked at the total and jokingly mentioned how he hoped he had enough on his debit to cover it, as he does not travel with credit cards.
The grand total, you ask? Given what we ordered I'd estimate approximately $130, including tax.
After the server picked up the check with his card in it I, naturally, excused myself to the ladies' room, in an effort to allow him to save face and settle things gracefully should there be any issues.
All went well, and we were allowed to leave with our dignity intact. On the way out, he asked if I'd like to walk a bit...in whipping wind and 4" heels, of course. I suggested a cup of tea and sorbet around the corner. He agreed, but rather than order himself anything, he sat & watched me...and regaled me with tales of his previous "sugar" relationship.
There had been no exact terms, you see...he'd simply helped her out when she needed something. A gift here or there; OH! and she'd had the pleasure of traveling with him on business several times.
Isn't that delightful?
I, by this time, had completely checked out other than wondering if he'd be gentleman enough to pay my taxi fare home.
Once back on the street, he asked me if I was busy the next day - perhaps we could meet for lunch before he left. I was [not]...an early morning meeting had suddenly materialized at work, and I'd be swamped all day.
He suggested I join him in his hotel room for the evening...I could always wear my lovely dress to work in the morning. I declined with a laugh & good-natured swat on the arm while groaning to myself.
He hailed a taxi (at my expense), smiled and hugged me. It had been a pleasure, and he looked forward to speaking again soon. He hoped I'd get home safely.
Then off he scurried into the night; nary a granule of sugar in sight.
Not a call, e-mail or text message was sent thanking me for bearing his endless self-absorbed soliloquy.
Exit The Frenchman.
No comments:
Post a Comment